Play My Ace
by aero-breaking
Summary: It's a game he was set up to lose from the beginning. Well played, Sasha. AU. JeanSasha.


**note one: **suddenly, the urge to write jean x sasha was strong. like, can't-think-of-anything-else-get-to-it-before-you-loose-your-mind type of strong.

**note two: **yeah. except, it was weird because i had absolutely no idea what it was that i was supposed to write. all my gut told me was to put blue foundation on repeat and get to it. so, sorry if this is just a mess of words. shingeki no kyojin is not mine. obviously.

* * *

**PLAY MY ACE  
**_aero-breaking_

* * *

_i'm taking it slow  
__feeding my flame  
__shuffling the cards of your game  
__and just in time  
__in the right place  
__suddenly i will play my ace_

—**blue foundation, **eyes on fire

* * *

It had all been a game; he has known it from the moment this whole thing started. It had been like playing with fire. He knew that Sasha was a lot smarter than she let on. She was a quick thinker and he was set up for failure from the very beginning, probably even before that.

Sasha is a huntress. She is careful, meticulous, stealthy, and so terribly deceiving. Before he realizes what is happening he's caught in her trap with no excuse, no explanation.

Above all, he is left breathless in the wake of her well played game. He had underestimated her, thought nothing of her perceptive gaze, of her slow movements, and of her carefully chosen words. It had all been so subtle.

What was it that Mikasa had said once? "Sasha is not someone an average person can understand. She's smart; book smart, street smart. Her intuition is the best. You won't win, you _can't _win."

Mikasa had been right. Every time he thought he had her figured out he would realize that she was always one step ahead of him. At the time it had been frustrating but he never gave up, never thought of loosing, because it wasn't in his nature. And while he was rash and impatient, Sasha was rash and _patient_. And that, above all, had been his down fall. Because how long did this take? Years.

Years of quiet game play. While he had been blatantly displaying his cards, boasting about his upper hands, and thinking: _this is easy_. She had done nothing more than smile and accept his plays, she had done everything he had expected her to do, everything that made him think that _yes, I'm winning this._

It is his loss. And he will accept it with every ounce of dignity he has. Because in the end, it was nothing to be ashamed about. It was just a game. And they had both known that one day one of them would have to admit defeat. One day, everything would come to and end, like all else in life.

He can do nothing more than bow and give her all the praise she deserves.

* * *

**year: 860**

"You're just a moron."

"And you're just jealous"

Sasha lets out something close to a snort, "Of what?"

"That I'm getting some sooner than you." Jean replies a cocky smile overtaking his lips.

"Yeah right. If I wanted sex I could've found someone already. Contrary to you, I actually want to find true love, you know, like those stupid romance movies. Except maybe with less tears and drama and more steak."

"Of course you do." He shifts the car to reverse and begins backing out of the parking spot. "Steak makes everything better."

"Yeah, so lets stop to eat, yeah? Invite me one last time before your new girlfriend gets jealous and says you can't hang out with me anymore."

"She's not like that."

"Jean," Sasha begins with that all-knowing tone of hers that irritates him to no end. "I know girls like Marie okay. I—" she motions her hands all over her face and chest, "—deal with them on a daily basis. And let me tell you, I _know _their type, more than you ever will."

"Don't be a smartass."

"Then don't argue and lets stop by a steakhouse."

Jean looks at her from the corner of his eye and sees the furrow of her eyebrows, a tell tale sign that if he doesn't drop it she won't either. He lets out a sigh. Someday he would stop indulging her and her antics, unfortunately, today is not that day.

He turns sharply to the left at the next light, just so she knows she's not getting any dessert, and heads towards her favorite place.

* * *

**year: 861**

Trost was cold this time of the year, even though it still wasn't officially winter. There are strong winds and cool rains, it pisses him off. He likes spring the best. Because it's not too cold and not too hot and not too rainy. He hates autumn the most; because of the rain and falling leaves his whole front porch is a mess. It's a pain to clean it.

And cleaning is what he's doing when he receives a call from Eren. It only serves to piss him off further.

"What. What do you want? Damn it."

"_Jeez calm your tits. It's not my fault you're girlfriend-less."_

"Go to hell."

"_I'll let that slide because I know it's your time of the month and I'm your best friend. You should be thankful."_

"I hope you choke on that tongue of yours."

"_Whatever horseface. Look, I was just calling you because Mikasa said that Sasha wanted to tell you that it'll all be okay, she'll come comfort you as soon as the plane lands."_

Jean slaps a hand to his face. _Of course _Sasha would do that. Of course. He was going to throttle her. "You can go die in a ditch Yeager."

"_Only if you come with me. Lets go get drunk. I'll pick you up, that way you don't have to worry about driving back home. You can drown you sorrows in alcohol and it'll be like Sandra never happened."_

He hangs up before any more stupidity comes out of Eren's mouth and continues to rake the stupid leaves that are stuck to his porch. Autumn could go to hell.

* * *

**year: 862**

As it stands, Jean can only stupidly nod his head. Because what the hell?

Sasha had a boyfriend. What? Has hell frozen over? Again, what?

Not only that, he's handsome. And rich. What?

His brain has short circuited because even he as male is slightly put off with just how handsome the guy is, like, no. Jean does not approve.

"It's creepy." Eren mutters under his breath. Mikasa punches him in the stomach and Armin tries to keep her from making a scene. Marco elbows him, and what's with that look? Marco for the last time, it's not like that between Jean and Sasha. He's still in shock and Sasha is smiling a stupid smile and it—what the hell? Is that guy seriously inviting them to eat? Them? Plus Sasha?

Stupid rich guys, with stupid nice cars, and stupid Sasha. This is exactly the kind of man he told her to avoid. This wouldn't end on a good note. Probably. If it didn't Jean would rip this _Alastair _a new one.

Everyone around him is throwing around noises of approval and soon they're on their way to—you guessed it—a steakhouse.

What the _hell_?

* * *

**year: 863**

What is wrong with the youth of today? Seriously?

Jean doesn't remember being so…adventurous. Maybe it was because he even though he was a risk-taker he always knew his limits.

Sasha only rolls her eyes when she hears him complain, "You're the one who wanted to be an ER nurse, you shouldn't be complaining."

"No. No. I wan't to help people, not be a babysitter. There is a difference."

"Well," Sasha says, blowing a strand of her hair away, "You'd better get used to it."

"Yeah, but I mean, who shoves their dick in a camping stove? Why would _anyone _think that's a good idea?"

"Dunno."

Jeans looks up from the anatomy textbook he's reviewing, Sasha is absentmindedly flipping through her camera, and for some odd reason, the way the light is streaming through the window hits her hair at an angle that makes it shine…like a pretty halo atop her head. The light highlights the brown of her hair and her skin glows.

He's always known Sasha was prettier than average, not beautiful like Historia or alluring as Mikasa, but there was just _something_ about her that made her stand out to him. Like a damn sunflower in the middle of the field, _demanding _his attention.

When his eyes begin traveling the length of her neck he almost wants to slap himself. _What the hell Jean? She's your friend._

He clears his throat, the room suddenly feels too constricting and there's a lump forming in his esophagus.

"So how's Alastair?" He asks, forcing his voice to remain at a normal pitch.

"He's fine. We broke up." Sasha doesn't even look up.

"Sasha."

He sees the way her head shifts to look up at him, almost as if on instinct, and her eyes are a field of molten gold.

* * *

**year: 864**

Its autumn. And like every year during this time it's raining and he's in a worse mood than usual. But that doesn't stop him from running through the street stuck with leaves and the rain that hits his face like a cluster of small needles. He's running down a familiar road, with a familiar anger raging in his gut. When the park comes into view he sees her sitting in a bench, drenched in rain, taking pictures.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He asks once he's within earshot.

She looks up, startled. She quickly regains her composure, "Taking pictures. Isn't it obvious?"

"That's not what I'm asking," He grips her arm and pulls her up from the bench, "I'm asking what you're doing _here_. Why are you _here _and not home, with the rest of your family?"

"And do what?" She spits out. "Cry and make it worse? Watch my mother fall into despair and not able to do _anything _about it? Just what would I do? I can't make him come back." And as she says this the words get stuck in her throat. He sees her eyes slowly shift from masked indifference to utter desolation. "He's dead Jean. My Papa is dead."

Sasha sinks into the bench and lets the camera slip from her fingers. Through the rain he hears the resonating crack, it's a lot louder than he ever expected it to be.

He sits down next to her and hugs her. And for the first time since the news she cries.

* * *

**year: 865**

He's not sure how to do this. Like, how do you tell one of your closest friends that over the weekend you had an epiphany and you've realized that you're madly in love them?

Jean didn't do things like this. Usually, he began with thinking: _hey this girl is totally fine. Let's get her number._

It definitely did not begin with: _over the last few years I've been slowly falling in love with you, please, please, please say you love me too. If not I'll probably die. _

Just how? Eren offers no useful advice. He just says, "It was _about _damn time. Armin owes me fifty." Jean had then proceeded to give him a black eye. Because _dammit, _he still hated Yeager's guts. Even if they were best friends.

It's totally not awkward that his high school crush is the one who is the voice of reason. Mikasa, before offering any advice begins with, "Hurt her and you die." It doesn't help that Annie is by her side, Ymir standing a few feet behind them, and Reiner and Bertholt standing a few feet behind her. Why are they being so intimidating? They were supposed to be his friends too. What if Sasha hurt him? What then, huh? This was just discrimination.

When he says this out loud nobody pays him any heed.

Mikasa had said: Just tell her, heaven knows she's been waiting forever.

So he does just this. Just comes out and says: _Sasha I'm in love with you._

Her wide smile is all the answer he needs.

* * *

**year: 866**

"Why did you have to choose autumn? I hate autumn."

"That's precisely why I chose it. So you can have at least one good thing in autumn."

"Well," He says, as the rice is thrown everywhere, "I guess it's not so bad."

He looks at her, her golden irises twinkling mischievously up at him, "Lets go home, Mrs. Kirschtein."

She wraps her arm around his and they walk down the isle.

In the end, he supposes, even if she won the game, he's still a winner too. In this game called love.

* * *

**note three: **what are these kids names, seriously? kirstein? kirschstein? kirschtein? braus? blouse? someone just make it stop.

**note four: **on another note, i hope you enjoyed this. also, jean x sasha _needs _more love. like, how can you not love these cuties?

**note five: **this probably has a lot of unattended mistakes. sorry. it's late. and the jeansasha was coming at me like the tide on the full moon. i could barely keep from drowning.

**please, please review and favorite.**


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